


Licorice

by DragoJustine



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-02
Updated: 2008-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragoJustine/pseuds/DragoJustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared eats too much candy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Licorice

Lusting after your best friend sucks (because closeted in Hollywood? That doesn’t suck enough anyway), but Jensen wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the show, loves Dean (man, he is a screwed-up puppy), loves his career right now, loves- yeah, okay, loves Jared. Shut up. Anyway, working with your best friend on a great job, it’s a good life. And if it means some cold showers in his trailer and plenty of time spent with his right hand and tall Texas cowboys in his porn, _not thinking about_ \-- Well, that’s okay.

Jared throws his arm over Jensen’s shoulders and calls him Jen and ruffles his hair, laughs long and loud and uninhibited. Tries to climb him like a tree, right in front of reporters, picks him up sometimes (slung right over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, just to show off his strength), practically climbs in his lap in interviews. Jensen clamps down hard on his fantasies, keeps his mind in his work, because _that’s just Jared. Just how he is._ So they spend every spare moment together, TV, Xbox, pickup basketball, movies, drunken nights with Tom and Mike and a pack of cards, and Jensen keeps himself ruthlessly in check, because _this is the best your life has ever been. Don’t fuck it up._

It would have worked, too-- would have kept on that way, with his strange undefined Thing with Jared just a fixture on the landscape, huge and undeniable and not talked about, like a mountain range. 

Until the thing with the damned licorice. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

The first time it happens, Jensen is horny anyway. That's what he tells himself- no way would the smell of licorice have made him half-hard like that if he hadn't been horny anyway, and then none of it would have happened. But Jared's just lounging back with one mile-long leg stretched way out for every PA on set to trip over, drumming his left hand on the inside of his thigh ( _making those tendons on the back of his hand flex- Jesus, Jensen, stop staring_ ) and popping licorice with his right. Then he starts chucking the little black bits up in the air, catching them on his tongue ( _tilting his head back to show the long, smooth line of throat- JESUS, Jensen, get it together_ ). 

Jensen gets up to get coffee before he ends up so bad he _can't_ stand up. 

+++++++++++++++++++++

The second time he isn't horny-- isn't watching the long, lean lines of Jared's legs or back or throat, isn't trying to suppress thoughts about Jared's hands or lips. But Jared pulls out that little bag and opens it, and the smell hits him, and there he is again. Stupid. Weird associations in his head, some Freudian joke and it's all on him. 

"What the hell, Jared?"

"What?"

"That stuff smells like ass. What happened to your sour-rope thingies?" 

"Oh. I don't know, I just tried it and I like it. You seriously gonna bitch?"

Jared is pulling the funny bitchface, tossing a licorice bit at him, grinning wide and expecting Jensen to just laugh and be happy again. Expecting it with all the simple, open-hearted faith of a puppy who knows he's too cute not to pet.

"No. Whatever. Smells like ass, that's all." 

Jensen keeps his eyes fixed on his script, held low (very low) over his lap, but even so he can see Jared's sad-puppy look, the way his dimples fade and his hair falls over his eyes as he rolls the top of the little bag and stuffs it back in his jacket pocket.

_You asshole, Jensen. Not bad enough that you're sitting here thinking about your lips wrapped around his dick, him staring down at you with those wide, laughing eyes while you suck and tongue him. Sliding up his body to kiss him, pressing close, his taste mixing with the licorice in your joined mouths- Good god, there you go again. That's not bad enough, you have to be an asshole to him because of it?_

After shooting, Jensen lets Jared kick his ass a little harder than usual at Guitar Hero. Jared jumps up and down whooping like a total idiot. Jensen tucks the other guitar back beside the couch, suggests Jared play "Same Old Song and Dance" for an encore, takes a long pull of his beer and lets himself relax into the couch and enjoy the warmth that seems to fill every room Jared's in-- even when he's trying to imitate Joe Perry. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The third time it happens, Jensen's convinced that Jared, the universe, and his own subconscious have allied in war against him, and he might as well just wave the damned white flag. Fortunately, he spends so much mental effort forcing himself not to be an ass to Jared about it, that the fantasies never really have a chance to get going.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The fourth time it happens, Jensen spends the first three hours (Jared, damn him, is pulling that bag out between _every take!_ ) gritting his teeth and thinking about football scores and dentist visits to keep his mind away from _Jared's tongue tangling around yours, stupid bit of licorice sliding from Jared's mouth into yours, explosion of taste, Jared's bright delighted laugh while you moan helplessly, those fucking long fingers cupping and cradling your face, running through your hair, pressing into the knots of your neck, Jared's tongue sliding against his and taking the taste back, lips soft and full and pressing harder, demanding, as the kiss shifts_ \-- Yeah, that was another flubbed line.

Jensen gives it up as a bad job, and asks Kim to take 15. 

Jared tries to follow to his trailer, but Jensen manages to throw the bolt.

"I'll be fine, just feeling a little sick. No, really, fine."

Jensen already has his pants open, stroking himself rough and fast and completely without any finesse, desperate to get this damned thing out of his system so they can do the show. Jared's voice comes through the thin wall again, mocking banter overlaying real concern, and Jensen’s hips thrust shuddering forward.

"No, I don't need you to hold my hair while I puke. Very funny, asshole. Jared--"

Coming with Jared's name in his throat is startling. He doesn't know what he meant to say, just knows he has to bite down HARD, stifle it now, before it's "Jared, yes" and "oh God, Jared," and "Jared, just fuck me--" 

He bites his tongue badly, and the pain distracts him so effectively that he gets through the rest of Jared's jumbo bag and a whole day of shooting with no further incident.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The fifth time, it's a little girl in a movie theater with some Allsorts, and Jensen just has time to think _this is getting ridiculous._

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He’s stopped counting times. Jared got over the licorice thing and moved on to a fruit roll-up phase for awhile, then licorice again, then back to the sour ropes, then a licorice phase again, so it’s been a lot of times. And the fact that Jared’s history of preferred candy takes such a prominent place in his memory is plenty screwed up by itself-- anyway, it’s been a lot of times. 

Jensen’s pretty much baffled at how Jared could still be oblivious, because he knows he’s getting worse at hiding it each time. Jared is peeling the candy off a licorice wheel with his mouth right now, _lips and tongue caressing and sucking_. Licking the dark stain off his lips afterwards. It’s downright pornographic, and Cindy in the makeup trailer is telling him sternly that he can’t do that after she’s done with him. Jensen’s got his head tilted back, obediently closing his eyes, then looking down, then up, but he _knows_. Can see it as clear as if he was staring straight at him. Has Jared’s lips memorized. 

Cindy tells him he’s pretty now, and he tries to laugh like normal. She moves on to deal with Jared, setting the licorice wheel aside. Jared sticks out his tongue at her and she laughs, but Jensen can’t even pretend to participate. He knows he’s breathing ragged and shallow and staring at Jared wide-eyed and he’s fairly sure he just licked his lips without meaning to. _Right here, in the makeup trailer, straddle his hips in that chair and grind down against him, peel the licorice strip off the wheel and feed it to him while his hips jerk helplessly against you. Hear him moan and suck your fingers and grip your ass, reach down between you for the zipper of his jeans_ \--

He has to get out of this trailer _right now._

He bangs his hip on a table, nearly trips trying to get out. He can hear Jared talking, dimly, and Cindy says something like “sure, 15,” and then Jared has him. Jared pulls one of Jensen’s arms across his broad shoulders, one arm wrapped around his waist, hand pressing flat and sure to his hip while he guides Jensen down the stairs and around behind the trailer. Jensen’s skin burns and tingles all down his side where they’re pressed together, and he tries to fight free, laugh it off. 

But Jared has him pressed up against a wall, paneling rough on his back, one huge hand spread against Jensen’s heart and one cupping his neck. There’s no way to pretend that Jared doesn’t feel the way his pulse is fluttering. 

“Jensen, for Christ’s sake, how long was it going to take you?” 

The words don’t entirely make sense, probably because Jared’s rough whisper is bypassing his brain and going straight to his cock. Jensen answers “I couldn’t-- why didn’t you--” even though he still doesn’t really know what they’re talking about for sure. He’s too busy focusing on grabbing Jared’s ass and dragging him closer, slotting Jared’s thigh between his legs like they were made to fit this way.

“I wasn’t sure…” Jared trails off helplessly, and then kisses him.

The funny thing is, Jensen thinks (later, of course, since he isn’t doing much thinking now), that he barely even notices the taste of the licorice.


End file.
